Tracy & Tracy Co, Cake Sleuths
by minnie.the.wombat
Summary: Grandma hires Tracy & Tracy Co., a detective company,  to solve the mystery behind her cake. Pre-Thunderbirds. Enjoy!
1. Pilot

_Just a little smidgen more of this icing and…_

"Done!" Grandma Tracy exclaimed. Her doubly devilishly delight chocolate cake had recently become a staple of the dessert table at Annie Winthrop's Church meetings. Grandma beamed when Alma Harrison told the excited group of ladies that 'Ruthie's cake fuels the Church Group!' at last week's meeting. Grandma wanted the cake to be as big a hit as last week, considering this was still a new recipe for her. All she needed was a pinch of confectioner's sugar. She rummaged through the cabinets, unable to find it.

_Oh dear, no more sugar. _Grandma removed her apron and hung it before climbing down the stairs to the basement. Usually she would ask one of her

Grandbabies to do it, but she couldn't risk them finding out about the cake. _Those boys and their chocolate,_ she harrumphed while she grabbed the small packet of confectioner's sugar and made her way back upstairs.

Grandma poured the confectioner's sugar into her hands and sprinkled it around the cake…

…until she saw the bite mark. _Correction, _added Grandma,_the bite __**abyss.**_

She had one suspect in mind. One suspect that could easily turn into 5 more suspects, but Grandma had the most obvious suspect in mind.

_Scott Tracy! Get your backside down to this kitchen! Right. Now!_

* * *

><p>Grandma paced the length of the homely Midwestern kitchen. She froze when she heard footsteps, and grabbed the nearest hard object-in this case, a wooden spoon. Grandma was only mildly surprised when she heard not one but two pairs of footsteps.<p>

"How cute," Grandma muttered, "he brought backup." But when the kitchen door swung open, it was not her eldest grandson, his lanky teenage build filling the small doorway, but instead her second youngest, Gordon. Grandma looked down from where she expected Scott's head to be and scowled at her auburn-haired grandson.

She calmly walked over to where Gordon, who was joined by a frightened little Alan, was standing. Grandma smacked the end of the wooden spoon against her hand while questioning the boy.

"I see, Gordon Tracy. You came here to turn yourself in early, I suppose?"

A look of honest confusion crossed his face, and he blinked at his grandmother.

"Grandma, what are you talking about?"

The Grandma in question set the spoon on the kitchen counter before sitting down at the table.

"Someone has taken a bite out of my chocolate cake," as an afterthought, she added, "could it have possibly been one of you two?"

The glazed look of delight at the mention of Grandma's chocolate cake turned into a mixture of confusion on both of the boy's faces.

"No, Grandma," Alan shook his head vigorously.

Gordon, who seemed to be deep in thought, now climbed into his grandmother's waiting lap. "Grandma! I have the _perfect _idea!"

Grandma shot Alan a wide-eyed look of terror while the little blond boy held back his snickers.

"You do, Gordon? Now, what is this idea?" Grandma prodded.

"Me and Alan can find out who ate your cake!"

Alan gave Gordon a bewildered look, "Me and who! When did I say yes to this?"

"When you signed the _contract_, smart one," Gordon turned his attention back to his Grandma and wrapped his arms around her neck. "You see, Grandma, Allie and I are detectives."

"Yup, yup! We have our own company, too!"

"Tracy & Tracy, Co.!" The boys chorused in unison.

"Except we're not really sure what 'Co.' means, but Virgie told us that's what makes your company look official," Alan mentioned.

Gordon nodded in agreement and jumped off his Grandmother's lap.

"Just think, Grandma. We can find out who really ate your cake!"

Grandma pursed her lips in mock consideration, but in reality, she was so glad her two youngest grandson's were close again, that her mind was made up since they first mentioned the idea.

"Well, alright. I'll also include a meager stipend if you do manage to find the culprit, of course."

"Oh no, Grandma," Gordon shook his head and gave his Grandmother a cheeky grin, "this one's on the house."

* * *

><p>"Tootles, tootles, stay. <em>Stay.<em> Good kitty," Virgil fed Tootles the Cat another treat. He had been placed on pet-sitting duties for the weekend while his best friend, Rob, went on vacation with his family. Rob had been a good friend of his for a very long time now, and had always had Virgil's back, so it was easy for Virgil to make the decision once his friend had asked him.

_It's just two days, and she's a doll. Tootles won't bother anyone. _Rob had said yesterday, the Friday when Tootles was dropped off.

Rob was right, Tootles was a doll to take care of. She _didn't __**do**__ anything._

Virgil got up his perch on his bed and grabbed Tootles before heading off to treat Tootles to some toys. _Maybe that'll help her, _Virgil pondered for the right word, _live!_

* * *

><p>Gordon walked the length of his roominterrogation office, hands perched behind his back, chin squared in defiance. He never faced his suspect, just stared straight ahead, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of the older teen, unless to ask him questions.

"Please state your name for the record," Alan deadpanned across the table from the suspect, pen poised in hand, ready. Waiting.

"What is all this about?" questioned the bored teen.

"You know perfectly what this is about," answered Gordon.

"You've been arrested," Alan added coolly.

"No, no, no, no. You can't arrest me with a pair of handcuffs that say 'Super Stellar Sheriff' on them."

"Oh yeah? Try us," Gordon said.

"Please answer the question. I repeat, Please state your name."

Defeated, the teen slumped back in his seat, "Scott Tracy," he mumbled.

"What is your age?"

"Sixteen," Scott yawned.

"Where is your residence?"

"Next to your room, Squirt."

"Mr. Tracy, may I remind you that everything you say is being recorded and will be used in a court..."

"…yeah, yeah, yeah. Kansas."

Alan sifted through a dossier. "Where were you on Saturday, August 7?"

Scott pretended to search through his mind, "Uh, home?"

"You don't seem so sure of that, Tracy," Gordon spoke for the very first time, always pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"You want sure? Fine. I was at home, finishing my summer reading packet," Scott sat back in his seat. His two little brothers dragged him from his room to their bedroom, where he was seated.

"So you weren't in the kitchen today?" Alan continued, taking notes.

"Just for breakfast, this morning. Honest."

Gordon stopped in front of Scott's seat from across the table. He slowly removed his sunglasses and pocketed them. Gordon leant across the table and looked into Scott's eyes. Scott met the gaze and the two stayed there. Blue meeting green. Green backing off.

Gordon tapped Alan's shoulder, "He's clean."

"Well, Mr. Tracy, you're free to go," Alan shuffled a few papers around and offered Scott his hand.

Scott met it and, as an afterthought, added, "There _is _one person you could interrogate, who might lead you to some clues."

"Who?" Gordon and Alan asked in unison.

Scott smiled and was already out the door when the two brothers heard his reply,

"Dad."


	2. Jeff

**A 'Super Stellar' thank you to all who reviewed, especially ****Whirlgirl**** and ****Ses121**** (whom I couldn't personally thank).**

* * *

><p>"Tootles, roll over. Roll over," Virgil sighed from his perch on the living room couch. He picked up a cat treat and moved it in a circular motion, "roll <em>over.<em>" Tootles, who lay on the living room floor, just blinked at him. Finally, a fed up Virgil reached over to turn Tootles onto her back. He fed her a cat treat, and finally moved her back to her regular, static, position. Virgil sat back, satisfied.

"Good girl."

Tootles meowed angrily and pawed at Virgil, who looked at his watch and stood up, "Somebody wants a snack, don't they? Come on," he beckoned the cat, "let's go share a pint of milk."

* * *

><p>"You boys think I did what!" Jeff Tracy's gruff accent reasoned throughout Gordon and Alan's bedroom, "now, I <em>refuse<em> to be held captive by my sons like a common criminal until you tell me what in the world is going on!"

"Mr. Tracy, please. Calm down, or we will have to restrain you," Alan said in a hard voice, but in reality he was quaking in his boots.

Jeff must have noticed this, or maybe he just wanted to have some fun with his sons, but his mean demeanor dissolved into a playful one, "You two think I nicked a piece of your grandmother's cake, huh?" At the nods of his two youngest sons, he continued, "well, let me give you some advice. You don't live to be as old as me without following your grandma's rules. There's a little mantra I always say in my head when I'm tempted to grab some of your grandmother's cooking-which I did _not, _by the way-and it goes like this, 'Grandma's Rules or no food'.

Recognition crossed Alan's and Gordon's faces. Jeff smiled, this was definitely his ticket out of this bad _CSI _parody. He spoke too soon. Alan looked down and his sheets and cleared his throat, "There still are some few questions we need to get out of the way. Formal proceeding, you see."

Jeff grinned, "Of course. Let's get this show on the road."

"Where were you on the morning of Saturday, August 7?"

"I was at a very important meeting in Wichita, remember? I expected 'welcome back' hugs from my sons, but instead got 'cuffed with Sergeant Safe's Cereal-Box handcuffs."

Gordon pulled Alan aside, "He has a very good point, Alan."

The blond boy looked up a his brother, "That we use Sgt. Safe's handcuffs? No, actually we use the 'Super Stellar Sheriff' ones. You know, they come with badges…"

"No! That his alibi holds up. He _was_ on business."

Alan agreed, "Let's spring 'im."

They split up and Alan nodded towards his father, "Mr. Tracy, you're free to go. If you have any more information, you know where to reach us."

"Yeah, three doors to the right from my room," Jeff mumbled, before an idea popped into his head and he cleared his throat, "actually boys, there _is _someone I have in mind that might answer a few of your questions." Alan removed his father's handcuffs before joining Gordon in giving their father a questioning look.

Jeff just smiled and laughed.

* * *

><p>Scott was watching the latest ghost-hunting TV show in the living room when his dad appeared, rubbing his wrists. Scott grinned, never taking his eyes off of the television, "Tracy &amp; Tracy got you too, eh?"<p>

"Yeah, but you forgot the 'Co.'," Jeff took a seat next to his oldest son.

"It makes it…"

"Official," Jeff finished, before smiling.

Scott switched the channel, "So, who'd you pin the blame on?"

"John," Jeff smiled, "you?"

Scott smiled, "You," he changed the subject before his father could respond, "who do you really think it was?"

"Honestly, son, I thought it would have been you, but now, I'm not so sure," Jeff grabbed the remote from his son's hand and changed the television to a news channel, "but whoever it is, is going to be one sorry Tracy."

* * *

><p>"Ruthie! There you are!" Annie bustled towards the stout woman, "we've been waiting for you!"<p>

Annie led Grandma through the Winthrop kitchen, until they reached the living room, which had been cleared of its impeccable furniture to make way for the 'Church ladies'. She relieved Grandma of the bundled chocolate cake, whipped up just in the nick of time, sans frosting or sugar, to place it on the infamous dessert table. Grandma allowed herself a little smile once she saw that a space in the center of the table had been reserved for her chocolate masterpiece.

Eleanor Livingston hushed the chatty group of ladies, who sat in a clustered circle of chairs, before standing up to announce the latest Parish news.

At the end of the meeting, where many odds and ends were tied up, the ladies herded to the dessert table. Not only was the chocolate cake finished, but so were Alma's Danish strips, and Kathy DiBuscchio's sugared donut holes.

"Ruthie," Bessie Smith sauntered over to Grandma, "your cake was _marvelous!_ I'll bet your grandkids helped you out."

Before Grandma could correct her, Annie Winthrop jumped in, "Oh yes, those Tracy boys are so educated. You and Lucille have taught them how to respect women. Such manners, too!"

Grandma smiled and politely thanked the two women, _if only they knew,_ tutted Grandma,_ if only they knew. _


	3. John

John Tracy laughed…

…and laughed…

...and laughed.

Alan and Gordon gave him a bewildered expression as John's fit died down to random giggles.

"You two arrested me," John held up his shackled hands for emphasis, "for what!"

"For allegedly taking a piece from Grandma's cake," Alan repeated morosely.

John snickered, "You think I've lived to be fifteen without following Grandma's rules? Let me give you brats a tad of self-preservation," he leaned over the table,

"_Listen. To. Grandma_," John sat back, satisfied that he managed to scare his dweeb brothers.

"Oh yeah?" countered Gordon, leaning with his elbows on the table to glare at John. Never taking his eyes off his big brother, he spoke to Alan, "question him."

Alan promptly began, "Where were you on the morning of Saturday, August 7?"

"At the bookstore."

"Why were you there?" Alan prodded.

"To buy a book," John answered coolly.

Gordon stood straight and paced the length of his bedroom, "Prove it."

John motioned for Alan to reach in the front pocket of his jeans, and smiled when he saw a crumpled receipt, "Read it and weep. That is, if you _can _read."

"Astrophysics. Nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents," Gordon read aloud, for Alan's benefit if not anything else.

John smirked, "Look at the date."

In big block printed letters, John's alibi held up.

**Saturday, Aug. 7**

Gordon sighed and mimicked rubbing his temples, "Mr. Tracy, you're free to go. Have a nice day."

Alan removed John's handcuffs, and the older blond was almost out the door when he turned on his heels and pointed at his little brothers, "You know, there _is _someone I saw going into the kitchen when I came home."

Gordon and Alan's eyebrows shot up. Who could it be? Unless…

Before John could smugly reply, the boys had figured out their next suspect.

_Virgil. _

_Virgil. _

"Virgil."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Virgil Tracy! Open up!" Gordon banged against the door, supported by Alan's shoulders.<p>

Virgil, from inside his room, sighed, "Are we the only two normal people left, Tootles?" Tootles, for her part, lay at the foot of the bed and blinked lazily at Virgil.

"Come _on_, Gordy! You're too fat!" Alan hissed as he tightened his grip on his older brother's shoes, "let's try later!"

"No!" came Gordon's reply, "we are detectives. Detectives don't give up!"

"Can I at least…," before Alan could finish his sentence, the door in front of them squeaked open and an amused Virgil, carrying Tootles, stared at them.

Gordon jumped off of Alan and displayed his badge, "Virgil Tracy?"

"Yes."

"You're under arrest. Cuff him, Alan," Gordon took Tootles while Alan handcuffed his big brother and led him to the interrogation office.

Gordon let Tootles go once they reached the office, but Tootles for her part stayed next to Virgil during the interrogation.

"Mr. Tracy," Gordon drawled out the words, "we have significant evidence that puts you in the scene of a crime committed on Saturday, August 7."

"Oh no! Whatever shall I do, Officer?" Virgil grinned smugly, "what are you gonna do? Search me?"

Alan smiled, "Actually, we haven't thought of that yet, but let's do that later. Now we need to ask you some questions."

"Ask away."

"Were you ever in the kitchen on Saturday, August 7?"

"…apart from going down for breakfast," Gordon added.

Virgil shrugged, "Yeah, to get Tootles some milk."

"Is that the _only_ thing you got, Tracy?" Alan raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yes," sighed Virgil, "the _truth._"

"Uh-huh," Gordon folded his arms, "search him."

Alan obediently stood and motioned for Virgil to do the same. Patting Virgil's pockets, Alan found a lump and removed it for further examination. He gasped and dropped the item. Gordon looked over at it and his eyes darkened. Virgil's eyes widened in panic as Gordon booked him.

Tootles, for her part, sauntered over to where the item was dropped and began to lick the chocolate frosting off of the embroidered handkerchief.

VGT

* * *

><p>Goodness Gracious! This is surely not for the faint at heart! But that's not it yet, folks, you're in for one last kicker!<p>

Thanks for reading!


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